Le Programme des mémoires de survivants de l’Holocauste

Bronia Jablon

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Né(e)
15 avril 1918 Dubno, Poland

Map of Mukacevo, Czechoslovakia

immigré(e)
1967 Montreal

Separated from her family, Bronia and her three-year-old daughter wonder how they will survive each day. It is 1942, the height of Nazi persecution in Poland, and Bronia’s friends and neighbours are either collaborating with the Nazis or are too terrified for their own lives to offer assistance. When they finally find help, a cold, dark cellar becomes both their haven and prison. A Part of Me is the harrowing story of how a mother and daughter make it through the war, one pivotal decision at a time.

À propos de Bronia

Bronia Jablon was born on April 15, 1918, in Dubno, Poland. She survived the war with her daughter, Lucy. After the war, she completed her nursing degree in Russia and had a successful nursing career. She lived in Russia, Poland and Israel before finally immigrating to Canada to be with her daughter and grandchildren in 1967. Bronia passed away in Toronto in 1994.

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Le livre

Cover of A Part of Me (Version française à venir)

A Part of Me (Version française à venir)

My young daughter and I were now totally alone, relying on my own strength and the caprice of fate. I ran out of the house with my beloved Lucy in my arms, this helpless little being who depended on me for solace, comfort and protection. I hoped that God would not desert us.

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A Part of Me (Version française à venir)

Escape

In October 1942, rumours came from Dubno that the last roundup of Jews there had been completed. Even those with special skills, now no longer needed, were murdered. I cried for my sister and her child. But my sorrow was even greater when those who were taken to work on the highways returned home with news that Nazi soldiers were surrounding our ghetto. We understood what this meant. My husband’s mother begged me to leave my child with her and said I should try to escape on my own. As a devoted mother, I refused and declared, “Whatever will happen to me, will also happen to my child.”

I picked up my darling daughter in my arms, parted from my friends, with whom I had lived for the last three years and learned to love, and left. I knew this was the end. When I left my mother-in-law and her home, I broke all ties with my past, all that had been my support, my entire defence. I was now almost totally alone, dependent on my own strength and the caprice of fate. With me was my daughter — a helpless little being who depended on me for solace, comfort and protection — and a piece of bread, which was not nearly enough. I ran out of the house with my beloved Lucy in my arms and the hope that God would not desert me.